Rectrix
by Goonlalagoon
Summary: Something is afoot in the Vimes household, and Commander Vimes is determined to find out what is going on...
1. Chapter 1

**Much as I would love to have come up with the Discworld, I sadly didn't.**

* * *

Commander Samuel Vimes was suspicious*. There was something baffling afoot, he just knew it. And he intended to find out what it was. It would require careful observation, diligent gathering of evidence, and extreme discretion.  
Otherwise Sybil would find out.

"Sam, what on earth are you _doing_?"  
"I'm sitting down, dear."  
"I can see that." She shot him a look that added in clear wife telepathy '_I can also see that you're sitting such that your ear is pressed firmly against that door.'_ He sighed, and got up, following her a little way down the hall.  
"I just wanted to listen for a moment, see what they were up to-"  
"Sam, he doesn't need you listening at every moment. He's not in any _danger_."  
"I know, I know…"  
Sybil shook her head.  
"Even for you, Sam, this is unusually, well…extreme. Usually you just interview the poor girls for five minutes when they first arrive to check that they're not secretly assassins."  
"No, dear. The price on our son's head is even higher than on Vetinari's." Lady Sybil paused, rearranging what she had been about to say.  
"_Really?_"  
"Yes. " Sam was grimly proud of that. Ha! No-one targeted his family. Well, not anymore^. Sybil blinked a few times.  
"Well, then. No listening at doors!"  
"Yes dear…" He watched her bustle off to feed the dragons. No listening. That would be a spanner in the works. Well. Not if he so happened to go and take a nice _long_ bath. He wouldn't _listen_, but he couldn't help if he _heard_, now, could he?

"How was your day, dear?"  
"It was good! We did fossils today. Look, here's one!"  
"That is nice. Be sure to give it back."  
"No, it's mine. I found it." In the usual way of child speech, this passed under the parental radar. It didn't quite make it under the Vimes Hyper Alert radar, though.

_Found_ it? Where on earth would they _find_ a fossil in a first floor room that had been cleaned only that morning? Without making the slightest sound?  
Something was definitely going on.

* * *

*Being a policeman, Vimes was of course always suspicious. In this case, he was more suspicious than usual.

^ The last man to try was currently in the pleasant situation of trying to decide who's displeasure was the least pleasurable, Vimes' or Vetinari's. He was finding it an extremely, and surprisingly, close run thing.


	2. Chapter 2

It was several days later before Vimes received a Clue. In that time, largely occupied by the vast quantities of paperwork that, even with the help of A.E. Pessimal, he was required to read and sign, he grew steadily more and more uneasy~. Samuel Vimes did not like mysteries, particularly not ones he was involved in. There had been far too many, and they tended to cease to be mysteries very suddenly, and often dramatically. Wee Mad Arthur glided into the Watchouse, causing several watchmen to cover their heads*. He shot Vimes a quizzical look upon seeing him.

"What is it?"  
"Nothing much, sir, but I thought you were on holiday."  
"Why?"  
"Well, sir, your lad was wandering around the Chalk up by the Feegle mounds all this morning. I can go an' fetch him if he wasnae supposed ta be there."  
"Sam. In the _Chalk_? Are you –"  
"Positive, sir. Even spoke to the lad. He said he was looking for fossils and burial mounds."  
Sam Vimes was for a moment speechless. Then he stood up.  
"Right, I'm going home."

"What are you on about, Sam? Of course Young Sam isn't off in the country somewhere! He's in the schoolroom, having lessons, as usual." Vimes ignored his wife, and pressed his ear to the keyhole. After a minute he stepped back and gestured for her to do the same. She objected, but eventually did, puzzled. Two minutes passed, and she stood up.  
"Absolutely silent. Perhaps I should knock…?"  
"No, dear, I have a better idea…"  
It only took a few minutes to have the ladder against the wall and to scramble up it, even while holding a cloth. Just in case. He didn't want to have to explain to his son why he was spying. He was just cleaning a window. Happened to glance in. All explanations and alibis were unnecessary, as it turned out.

"What do you mean, they're not in there!"  
A quick search of the house and grounds put Sybil's protestations that they were merely doing some research around the place to rest. Vimes paced up and down, growing steadily more and more worried. The clock chimed, and they both looked up as footsteps came running down the hall. The door opened.  
"Mum, dad, look at _these_!" Young Sam was beaming. He held out a muddy hand, and both parents peered at the collection of objects.  
"A fossil, a stone with a hole in it, and a feather."  
"Very nice, dear. You are going to wash those before putting them on your shelves, aren't you?"  
"Yes mum. Dad, can I have a proper cupboard? Like the museum ones."  
"Ask the hogfather."  
"But _dad_. Hogswatch is _ages_ away." Sybil hid a smile.  
"Well, then. You'll just have to wait. Your shelf will do for now."  
Sam sighed, but couldn't remain downbeat for long.  
"I'll find loads of things to put in it when I get one." He looked ready to go running off hunting for objects of interest that instant.  
"Good lad. Where are you going to look?" Young Sam thought for a minute.  
"I'll go the Ramtops soon. You get stones that stick to metal up there! I'd like one of those."  
"The Ramtops are a long way away." Young Sam shrugged.  
"I'll be quick."

A week later, while putting his son to bed, Vimes glanced at the 'collecting shelf' over the bed. There was a small stone sat next to the two fossils, with a needle stuck to it.

* * *

~ The accumulated paperwork of the Watch was steadily falling before the combined might of A.E. Pessimal and Gooseberry. Vimes now only had to deal with relatively small piles of paper, usually with polite directions stating exactly what needed doing and highlighting any important background information not included. For the first time in many years, Vimes had achieved a clean floor, and a desk that didn't have an inch of paper covering every square inch.

*Wee Mad Arthur's birds were always perfectly Feegle trained. This meant that the concept of 'house trained' was entirely foreign^.

^ One or two watchmen decided that while they could deal with bird doings in their hair, they couldn't cope with them in their morning tea, and covered their mugs instead.


	3. Chapter 3

Angua gave Vimes a concerned look when he entered the watch house the next morning.  
"Sir? Are you alright?"  
"No, Angua, I am not. My son has somehow managed to go to the Ramtops and back _without us noticing!_" The werewolf stared.  
"Are you sure, sir? It's a fair journey, unless you travel by magic." Vimes glared at her.  
"I know. I don't know how they're doing it. It's that governess, I just know it is!"  
"Governess?"  
"His new governess. Friend of Sybil's recommended her. Ever since she arrived, the schoolroom's been silent, and he's been off finding fossils in the chalk, metal attracting stones in the Ramtops, and gods know what else!"  
There was a pause, while Angua considered whether to run and fetch a glass of water for the Commander.  
"Sir, this governess…"  
"Yes? What about her?"  
"Would she be called Susan? White hair? Well, mostly white."  
"Yes! It moves, I'm sure it does! You know her?"  
"Yes, sir. I see her in Biers sometimes." Vimes froze. "Oh, don't worry, sir. She's not a vampire, or a werewolf. She's not really an undead. She's…well, sir, Young Sam is safer with her than he is even with you."  
"What makes you say that, Captain?"  
"Well, sir…she's Death's granddaughter. It's…complicated."  
"But he's a skeleton!"  
"Yes, sir. Like I said. It's complicated."

"Right. Now, you are not to wander off, understood?"  
"Yes Miss Susan."  
"Good. Now, you remember to be _polite_ to Nanny Ogg. She knows a lot about herbs."  
"Is she really a witch?"  
"Yes."  
"Wow!"  
Susan smiled. She rather liked her new student. He was very enthusiastic, and utterly unfazeable.  
"Off we go, then."

* * *

**Reviews and constructive criticism would be much appreciated :) **


End file.
